


Honey Tongue

by lyrrium



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrrium/pseuds/lyrrium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweet, smokey. Always the chance of a sting. Drabbles for Irene Trevelyan and Sera.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey Tongue

She’s sweet. 

It’s not a word you’d apply to the elf at first sight; vulgar, cussing, always loud and laughing, the subtlety of a brick wall, the vocabulary of a sailor and the manners of a street urchin. Lips always curved in a sly grin, tongue sharp as the arrows she wields, a mouth not made for lies but for honesty and shouting. 

Sera is a tempest, a thunderstorm, a lightening bolt. A raw energy to be envious of. Admirable, yes, but also able to blind. Swift even in her fights. Striking in a moment, and the next she’s gone, leaving her victim nailed to the ground. 

She doesn’t think about it. She just does, lives, is. Her arrows strike the target, her knife finds the weak spot, her fists hit skin and bone without mercy. 

She’s afraid too.

Of what she doesn’t know or understands, of anything that can’t be fixed with a quick arrow to the head. As much as she tries to hide it, that fear is a part of her. You recognize the look in her eyes when tendrils of fear and doubt come creeping in, making her lash out like a wounded animal because anger, anger is something solid and raw, something she can understand. A fight is better than having to face the questions, the I-don’t-knows and the I’m-not-sure’s. You understand this more than anyone else. The desire to beat something until your knuckles are bloody and raw, until the pain numbs out the doubt. 

She’s not soft. She’ll never be soft.

And yet…. Her calloused hands are gentle in yours, fingers intertwining as she leans forwards to capture your lips in a kiss. 

That is where she’s sweet. Sweet on the tongue, sweet on the lips. 

As her tongue sweeps into your mouth and her breath becomes yours, you’re reminded of the tarts your nan used to make. Strawberries, limes and a lot of sugar. Sweet and soft, the way the cream would melt into your mouth and you always ended up wanting more. You were always greedy for more. Now is no different as you pull your body flush against hers, making her chuckle. The way she brushes her thumb across your cheek and the way her hand moves down down to cup your chin. Teasing, tantalizing as her fingerprints seem to leave trails of fire on your skin. 

It’s the sweetest burn, you think, as you lean forward for another taste.


End file.
